I step forward to go say hi, but Kira throws open the car door.
“Come on,” she says, and slips into the driver’s seat.
I get in on the passenger side, still uneasy. The engine hums to life, and we roll through the gate. Luka’s car follows a few lengths behind, steady and silent.
The first few minutes pass in near silence. The radio is off. The only sound is the low rumble of the tires over the road.
“So…” I break the silence. “Did you go to see Dimitri today?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. Was he… alright?”
She doesn’t reply.
I wait a beat, then try again. “Petyr mentioned something about getting a live-in nurse. I hope I didn’t overstep by talking to him. You’d be okay with that, right?”
“Mm.”
I start to get a little nervous. Her monosyllabic answers aren’t helping. She said she wanted to talk, so why isn’t she?
That’s when I notice how stiff her body is. Her grip on the steering wheel is tight, her knuckles pale against the dark leather. I can’t tell if she’s angry, tired, or just somewhere far away.
Unease prickles at the base of my skull. The night outside looks too still, the road too empty. Something isn’t right.
“Kira,” I say finally, “maybe we should head back. It’s late, and?—”
She doesn’t look at me. Her jaw flexes once before she says, “Just a little longer. The diner’s just up ahead.” She shoots me a strange smile. “Can’t go back on an empty stomach, right?”
The tone is calm, almost gentle. But it doesn’t soothe me.
I glance in the mirror. Luka’s headlights follow, unwavering, though I can’t see his face past the tinted windshield. My pulse kicks up a notch.
I try again, my voice steady but firm. “Kira. Please, turn us around. I’m really not comfortable leaving Lilia alone.”
Again, Kira doesn’t answer.
The silence between us thickens until it’s all I can hear. Streetlights blur past the windows, one after another, bright flashes through the dark.
I have no idea how long we stay like that, in the car, just driving on.Something’s wrong.That prickling sensation at the back of my neck is now a siren, blaring.
“Kira—”
“Hush. We’re almost there.”
The city lights grow closer on the horizon. We pass the first clusters of old warehouses, graffiti-scrawled and half collapsed.
“Almost where?”
No answer. Her knuckles stay white on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed ahead.
I glance at the side mirror. Luka’s car is still there, at a steady distance behind us. Every so often, the headlights flash across my reflection in the glass, but I still can’t see him.
We take an exit I don’t recognize. The road narrows, then winds through a strip of industrial land. Empty lots, cracked pavement, broken fences. Nothing but metal skeletons of forgotten buildings and the sound of our tires crunching over gravel.
When Kira finally slows the car, I know.
I fucked up.
